


Little Delinquent

by fujoshi_robin



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Daddy Issues, Discipline, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Jason Todd is Robin, M/M spanking, Over the Knee, Parental Discipline, Spanking, Strapping, Teenage Rebellion, Underage Smoking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-28
Updated: 2017-01-28
Packaged: 2018-09-20 13:10:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9492764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fujoshi_robin/pseuds/fujoshi_robin
Summary: Jason needs to learn that good boys don't smoke cigarettes.





	

Bruce Wayne leaned back in his desk chair and took a break from the paperwork to stretch his muscular back. It had been a long day at work and he was still in his office clothes, his pinstriped jacket hung on a hook by the door. Bruce was almost finished with the largest stack of papers, when his quiet thoughts were interrupted by the loud thumping of schoolboy feet on the staircase. A moment later, the door crashed open.

"You rang?" Jason Todd said sourly, leaning up against the doorframe. You could tell just from the way his crooked tie hung from his neck and the bottom of his shirt poked out, untucked from his trousers that it had been a rough day at school as well. Alfred passing on the news that “ _Master Bruce would like to see you in his study immediately_ ” could not have been an improvement.

"It's polite to knock before entering someone's office, Jason," Bruce said, trying his best not to let this blatant display of cheekiness aggravate him.

"Oh, excuse me," the boy quipped. Bruce took a deep breath, resisting the urge to massage his temples. "Come in. And shut the door behind you."

Jason came to stand in the center or the manor study. He crossed his arms to show that he wasn't afraid of Bruce, even though he could feel his pulse quicken.

“Why didn’t you come straight home after school ended?” Bruce began, tidying up his workspace as he spoke. Jason blinked. This was not the question he had been expecting.

“I was hanging out with friends,” the boy replied, shrugging as though this were obvious.

“Which friends?” Bruce asked, his eyes narrowing. Jason’s teeth gritted together. _Ah, so that’s what this is about._

“None of your business.”

“It is my business, Jason,” Bruce said, sighing. “I received a call from your school today. Is there something you’d like to tell me?” Jason stared back at his adoptive father uncomfortably.

_From school?_ He cursed silently as his stomach did a flip. Why was it that he could face brutal criminals and serial killers on a nightly basis without much of a care, but when Bruce Wayne lowered his cold eyes and asked him a question like that, he felt himself quaking in his converse sneakers?

“I haven’t skipped class,” Jason grumbled, breaking the gaze.

“No,” Bruce agreed. “That’s not it. I think you know what I’m talking about and I recommend you come out and say it now.”

“I don’t,” the boy retorted. Bruce sighed and opened his desk drawer, retrieving a small red and white box, half full of Marlboros, and laying it out in front of them, watching his protégé’s eyes grow big.

“There was a locker inspection.” Bruce’s face was etched with disapproval. “Why do you have these, Jason?”

Jason blinked, a wave of fear washing over him as he considered his options. He could lie and say they weren’t his, but Bruce would probably see right through that. He could try to argue that he had a right to smoke, but Bruce would never buy that. _Damnit!_ He had been so careful about not smoking anywhere near the manor, only doing it behind the deli near school with some older boys who could keep a secret, and only every so often so his clothes wouldn’t smell. He thought he had been smart, keeping them in his locker, instead of in his pocket where they could be found by teachers or hall monitors. Locker inspection…?!

“The school has no right to go through my locker!” Jason burst out, suddenly indignant.

“They most certainly do— read your student handbook,” Bruce said crossly. “Answer my question. Were you smoking?”

“Not very much!” Jason blushed, swallowing hard. “Only once or twice; it’s not a big deal.”

“Jason, you know better than that!” Bruce was very clearly trying to keep from raising his voice. “Alfred and I do not allow smoking in this household.”

“I didn’t do it _in this household._ ”

Bruce rubbed his temple before leaning down, his voice getting very hard. "Listen, Jason. I know you think I don't care, but the fact is I do. And if you think for one second, that I'm going to let you ruin your health with cigarettes, you've got another thing coming.”

Jason felt anger well up in his stomach as Bruce continued the lecture. "Smoking isn't a crime! I can do what the hell I want in my spare time!" He snapped.

"You know it's against the rules!" Bruce said, raising his voice. "And watch your language!" The young vigilante rolled his eyes.

"I'm going to do my homework," he retorted, turning on his heel in annoyance. "I'm done with this stupid conversation."

"No, you're not." Bruce said, his voice so austere that is made Jason pause and look back, blushing he reached for the doorknob. Bruce’s eyes looked like ice. "Touch that doorknob and you'll be in a whole lot more trouble," Jason grumbled loudly.

"What is your fucking problem?" He yelled, whirling around "I had a cigarette! Big deal, Bruce! Kids in crime alley smoke way younger than me! You're freaking out over nothing!" Despite the outburst and his clenched fists, the fact that Bruce had stood up and was walking towards him definitely looked like a bad sign.

Without missing a beat, the dark knight grabbed his little miscreant by the upper arm and and practically dragged him around the desk to where there was a lavish, armless leather desk chair. "What are you doing?!" Jason cried, suddenly panicking. "let go of me!"

Bruce sighed. When he spoke, his voice was stern and disappointed. "I didn't want to do it this way, but you left me no choice," He promptly sat down in the chair and pulled his boy across the lap of his neatly pressed trousers.

"WHAT THE HELL!!" Jason shouted, struggling in his caretaker's tight grip. "You can't be serious!!" He suddenly had a very good view of Bruce's impeccably polished wingtip shoes. Without warning, the man raised his arm and began to spank Jason hard over the seat of his school trousers.

"Do you think I’m joking?" Bruce asked, slapping Jason briskly. "You’ve had this coming for a while now.”

"OWW" Jason groaned as a particularly hard whack crashed onto the seat of his pants.

"Get up," Bruce commanded, taking Jason by the shoulders and pulling him up to stand. He looked his son straight in the eye. Jason was bright red up to his ears and looked both mortified and angry. "Pants down," the built man ordered.

"Wh-WHAT?!"

"NOW, or I'll do it for you,"

"This is...so stupid," Jason muttered, feeling totally humiliated as he finagled with his belt buckle and fly, pushing his khaki pants down to just below his ass.

"As stupid as cutting your life expectancy in half by smoking?" Bruce asked, causing Jason to scowl and avert his eyes. As Bruce helped lower him over his large lap, he yanked the trousers and white briefs down to Jason's knees, getting them out of the way. Jason felt a fresh flash of fear; he knew that this was when the punishment would really begin.

_**SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!**_ Jason was totally accosted by the sound of slapping as Bruce's large hand hit his exposed flesh. _Fuck, that hurt!_

"Smoking is a NASTY, good for nothing habit that will RUIN your health, Robin," Bruce lectured. His voice was a growl, as he peppered Jason's flesh with sharp, stinging whacks. Jason grit his teeth and tried to steel himself for the impact, but Bruce’s hand was ruthless. “I don’t care who does it at school and I don’t care who does it in crime alley. I will not have my boy smoking cigarettes and making a delinquent of himself!”

“Nghghgh…!!” he groaned, wriggling and kicking his legs involuntarily as Bruce continued the assault. “Okay, I get it!”

“You get it,” Bruce repeated, pausing to note how Jason’s ears had turned bright red. “You're going to get it.” He began to spank the young man again, steady, loud whacks on the crown on his buttocks.

"Augh!!" _Christ!_ Bruce hadn’t spanked him like this in a long time; not since he had disobeyed orders on patrol and nearly gotten himself captured by Scarecrow. This type of mortifying, painful punishment that elicited ugly, hurt groans from the back of Jason’s throat and left him promising to be good and not do it again... he was way too old for this! He forced himself to shut up and let it happen in the hope that Bruce would stop soon.

“Alright,” Bruce said after a few more whacks, reaching under Jason’s chest to help him up, still grasping him by the wrist. There was a terribly hard, almost regretful tone to his voice when he spoke. “I need this to really get through to you. Smoking is not acceptable, ever. So I’m going to give you twelve with the strap.” Jason felt a wave of panic and immediately tried to wrench his arm out of Bruce’s grip.

“TWELVE?!” He said incredulously. He had had the strap before, of course. It was an old, nasty leather thing that looked like it had probably been in the Wayne family for several generations. But never more than six at a time— and even that had left him in tears! The thought of twelve hits on his already sore backside was appalling.

"Twelve. And you’re going to count them." Bruce reached behind him to retrieve the strap from one his cabinets, still holding Jason’s wrist with the other hand as if, at any moment, the boy might bolt from the room.

“Bruce… listen—” Jason began, hating himself a little for trying to talk his way out of it, but he was genuinely a little frightened now.

“No. This is not up for discussion. Lean over the desk.” He guided Jason towards the open space of the big, wooden study desk where he had neatly set aside his paperwork. Jason grit his teeth, a horrible mixture of apprehensive and angry as he caught a glimpse of the thick piece of leather in Bruce’s right hand. Once again, he felt Bruce reach under and lift his hips to position him, nudging his thighs apart in a way that made Jason squirm, his underpants around his ankles.

“Stay still,” Bruce cautioned before pulling back the strap and striking it soundly across Jason's exposed backside, in a way nothing could have prepared him for. Jason sprang straight up.

"Ow, fuck YOU!!" he exploded, without thinking. The sting was quick and biting. Bruce sighed and rested the strap back down on the desk.

"Alright then. I thought you were mature enough to take your strapping with dignity and have this over with, but I guess you just need to be disciplined like a little boy," Bruce replied coldly, taking his son by the arm and yanking him roughly back across his lap.

"NO!!" Jason cried, this time really struggling. He really hadn’t meant to swear, and he couldn’t stand another round of Bruce's awful hand. All he could do was kick his legs ineffectually and try to wrestle out of his caretaker’s grip. Bruce, however, held him firm with no effort. "Ow ow OW!!" Jason howled, his voice going raw, as Bruce smacked him relentlessly over and over in the same place, until he was shrieking.

"PLEASE STOP!!" Jason yowled, abandoning all decorum in his state of distress, twisting and thrashing to try to avoid those horrible slaps. “I’m sorry Bruce!”

"You do NOT use language like that in this household or ANYWHERE." Bruce commanded. "I taught you better than that, Jason Peter Todd." He continued to spank hard and fast as he lectured. "Your mouth has gotten out of control lately and I'm not going to stand for it anymore."

"Oooww...!!!" Jason hollered like a wounded pup, fighting Bruce's tight lock on his arm. "I didn't mean to say it; It just slipped out! Bruce, STOP!!" Jason was close to crying from frustration.

"You think that language makes you tough?" Bruce snapped, continuing his torrent of stinging swats. "You're dead wrong. You sound like an unruly kid. You'll speak politely and when spoken to in this household, or you'll wind up right back here. Am I making myself clear?"

"Augh!! OWW!! Oh...!!!" Jason grunted in pain. “Yes sir!”

"Never again," Bruce said darkly, "Never again do I EVER want to hear you use a word like that. And especially not to me." He punctuated this point with a series of harsh, deliberate whacks to the upper thighs.

"No sir, I won't!" Jason sobbed, his voice cracking. "Bruce, I won't! I'm sorry, but please stop spanking me!!" His voice reached an embarrassingly desperate tone and Bruce loosened his grip, pulling Jason up to stand.

"You still have twelve hits with the strap to answer to, and this time you'll count them properly."

Jason couldn't stop himself from pouting. He had hoped Bruce would let him off the hook after the second trip across his knee. But this time he leaned over the oak desk and positioned himself without needing to be told, his cheeks burning with hot tears.

**_FWIP!_** The strap sailed through the air and Jason jumped as it scorched his buttocks. "Argh, One!" he readjusted himself tentatively, wincing in pain. "Thank you sir."

"Let's get these over with," Bruce said, rolling up his sleeves again before bringing the strap back and giving Jason two good whacks on each upper thigh.

"Two, three, thank you sir," he winced. The next round of strokes elicited sharp, pained cries from the back of Jason's throat. His cherry-red bottom was now receiving a picturesque series of thick, even stripes.

Jason was bawling and gripping the desk hard by the time nine and ten rolled around. "Eleven! AUGH, TWELVE! Th-thank you sir." He sobbed, Bruce finally laying the horrible implement down and gathering Jason up into his arms.

He sat down in the chair, rubbed his boy's back and let him cry and cry in his lap. All the fears and frustrations came tumbling out with the tears. "it hurts," Jason wept, rubbing his hot flesh. “It hurts so bad Bruce,”

"I know, chum, I know," Bruce shushed him, rubbing circles into his back "You took your strapping very well that time. I'm proud of you." This induced a fresh bout of tears, and Bruce nuzzled Jason closer, stroking his hair very gently, handing him kleenex, and promising that he was okay and all was forgiven.

They stayed like that together until Jason had stopped crying. His bottom lip wobbled a little as he looked up at Bruce from where he was curled. “You really mean it that you’re not mad at me anymore…?” he asked.

“Oh Jason, I was never mad at you,” Bruce frowned, planting a small kiss on the boy’s hairline. “Frustrated, yes. But only because I don’t want you developing a destructive habit. I can’t risk losing you, okay?” Jason nodded, burying his face in the tear-soaked crook of Bruce’s shoulder.

“No more smoking,” Bruce said softly, picking up the pack of cigarettes. “I’m throwing these away. Do you have any more?”

“No, that’s all of them.” Jason sniffed. “I won’t do it again, Bruce, I promise.”

“Good lad,” Bruce said. “Now how about we go see what Alfred made for dinner?” Jason blew his nose once last time and smiled.

“I’d like that.”


End file.
